


Mutual

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 20:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Nori has a plan for his imprisonment.





	Mutual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DisKingOfErebor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisKingOfErebor/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for diskingoferebor’s “Vampire/Werewolf with Nwalin but Dwaling as the vamp and Nori as the were” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/161379570810/au-prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The first time he actually enters Erebor, it’s awe-inspiring, even though it should be terrifying. It’s hard for Nori to truly _fear_ anything anymore. The guards aren’t particularly rough with him, probably because he doesn’t cause any more trouble. He barely gave them a chase in the market. He stood, stoic and still, when they finally hauled him up and clapped the handcuffs around his wrists. Now he lets them march him down the towering halls, one on either side. They don’t talk to him, and he’s just as quiet—he’s busy taking in all his surroundings. The riches of the mountain weren’t exaggerated. He wishes he were in a different world, one where he could actually help Dori earn enough to let them move here.

But he can’t, so he just savours this one trip, up one set of stairs after another, higher and higher towards the _royal_ part—the chambers get more important the deeper they go. Finally, they step into the throne room, and Nori’s breath catches in his throat. There’s only a thin strip of stone reaching for the platform where the king sits. The pits on either side are so deep he can hardly see the ground. He tries not to look at them. He fixes forward instead, at the two dwarfs he strides for.

Nori’s caught glimpses of the King Under the Mountain before. It was always fleeting and interrupted by the crowd, but he still saw enough to know that King Thorin is in his prime, young and handsome, known to be stern but fair. The dwarf that stands tall at his side is both his personal guard and his closest advisor, and the one Nori’s truly come to see.

He’s finally thrown down before the throne. His knees hit the platform, and Nori stays where he lands, only to bow lower. When he lifts from it, he’s still focused on Dwalin in his peripherals. Dwalin is every bit as entrancing as he was the first time Nori ever saw him, trailing his king through the markets of Dale. Up close, Nori can see the glimmer of fangs between his lips, catch the red of his dark eyes. Nori knows his suspicion wasn’t wrong. And seeing that, seeing Dwalin again, how truly attractive he is, makes this easier. The last bits of worry seep out of Nori’s system.

Thorin takes a piece of parchment from one of the guards, scans it, and reads aloud, “Nori, you stand accused of theft—one ruby-studded goblet from the Master’s private stock. Theft—two silver necklaces from a jeweler’s showcase. Theft—” Thorin pauses, glancing up, and Nori can feel one of the guards shifting uncomfortably at his side. That last one was a last resort—he got away with the first two a little _too_ easily. Thorin finishes before turning to Nori, “—the wallet of one of my guards.”

Nori says nothing. This is the first time he’s ever been caught—the only time he’s ever tried to be—but he thinks it isn’t his turn yet. 

In the looming silence, Thorin dryly surmises, “This is worth a good two years in the dungeons. What have you to say for yourself, thief?”

Nori dares to stray his gaze to Dwalin. A long sweep of Dwalin’s muscular form more than makes up his mind. He tells his king, “I claim the right of sacrifice.” And Dwalin stiffens, one of the guards gasping. Nori keeps his face serious—for once, he isn’t joking.

Thorin just looks at him. Nori offers no explanation. With a subtle sideways glance, Thorin quietly relays, “That sentence retired with my father.” Nori already knew that, and Thorin elaborates, “The effected members of my court no longer wish to force it from prisoners. Even thieves.”

“Who said anything about force?” Nori quips, then quickly adds, “Your highness,” when he realizes how flippant it sounded. He clears his throat and corrects, “If it pleases your grace, I’m requesting it. I’ll accept the two years, but if you would show me some small mercy, let it be to serve them there. I want to repent.” His eyes have inadvertently strayed to Dwalin again. He can’t seem to force them back. 

Thorin looks to Dwalin. Dwalin’s hard gaze is boring holes into Nori, but Nori holds firm under it. He tries to meet Dwalin’s stare but finds himself almost overwhelmed in its intensity. For a moment, he worries he’ll be rejected, even though he did everything he could this morning to make himself look _tempting_. He even ironed down his collar to expose his neck, then braided his beard out of the way to show off around it.

Finally, Dwalin nods. It’s a sharp, singular movement, but it’s enough. Thorin agrees, “Very well,” then informs the guards, “Have him prepared.”

Those guards help Nori back to his feet. They shuffle him off, and he tries not to look over his shoulder too much—those red eyes are already haunting him.

* * *

It’s a relief when the night finally falls, and Dwalin can retire to his quarters, finally at the time when his energy returns. He tries to be active in the evenings, to be at Thorin’s side, even though it feels unnatural to him. A lot’s changed since his infection. But Thorin still trusts him, and for that, he’s always grateful. 

He half wishes Thorin were still with him now. He’s never had _subjects_ , no one under his custody—he’s _commanded_ , but that’s a different matter. He wonders, as he passes the two guards flanking his quarters to open the door, if he’ll find the new prisoner—Nori?—at the window, trying to escape. It would seem the obvious choice. The prisoner will be unbound by now, freshly washed and contained to Dwalin’s rooms—a _vampire_ hardly needs to chain its prey. Even still, Dwalin can’t imagine why any would choose servitude over the dungeons.

He steps inside, does a peripheral sweep of the room, sees no one, and steps out of his boots. He peels off and hangs his cloak, drops his armour on the side table, and strides back towards his bedroom in just a plain tunic and trousers. He imagines by now, Nori will likely be discovering there aren’t enough bed sheets to make a rope to throw out the window. 

Instead, he finds the bed perfectly made, the window unattended, and Nori sprawled out across the mattress. Lounging on his back, Nori has both arms behind his head, legs crossed. He wears the ceremonial sacrifice robes that someone probably had to dig out of a closet somewhere, light and burgundy. It complements his chestnut hair, done up in the pattern of a star. 

Dwalin blinks at him, and he actually _smiles_. Dwalin already doesn’t understand him.

Dwalin tends to meet things he doesn’t understand with wariness. He marches into the room and demands to know: “What’s going on?” He can’t fathom why anyone would _volunteer_ to be vampire food. Until now, he’s only had paid servants and, occasionally, Thorin, giving himself out of friendship despite Dwalin’s protests—but hunger always wins out in the end, and eventually, Dwalin will take anyone who offers. The thought of having someone around for two years just to satiate that, long before it takes him to the point of bloodthirsty madness, is certainly tempting. 

Nori is tempting. He’s a handsome specimen, with his intricate braids and winning grin, though his casual posture gives Dwalin pause. He makes it worse when he smoothly answers, “It looks like you’re surveying your new consort, to me.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Dwalin dryly asks. 

Nori trails his gaze pointedly down Dwalin’s chest, across his broad shoulders, and dares to fall lower. Unabashedly eyeing Dwalin’s crotch, Nori all but purrs, “Is it so hard to believe someone would actually want to lie beneath you?”

Inexplicably annoyed, Dwalin storms closer, right to the edge of the bed, where he can tower over Nori and hiss, “It’s not _lying beneath me_ , it’s _feeding_ me. But then, I guess I should expect such stupid misconceptions from a criminal. It’s clear you have warped perceptions of everything.”

Nori’s face drops into a frown. Seeming to sober, he quietly replies, “I had to steal.”

Dwalin snorts, “No one has to steal. Ignorant or not, you seem able enough—you could get a job.”

“But not keep one, when once a month I become a liability.”

Dwalin goes quiet in a heartbeat. He should’ve known.

He should’ve been able to smell it. Sense it. Even as vague as the single sentence is, Dwalin suddenly puts the pieces together. Nori slowly sits up, then slips over the side of the bed, and Dwalin’s gaze follows him as he comes to stand before Dwalin, closer than any mere mortal dwarf would ever dare, except, of course, for Thorin. Nori doesn’t know him nearly as well, doesn’t know he won’t instantly strike out. Nori breathes what Dwalin already knows: “I’m a werewolf.”

If Dwalin still gave breath, it would hitch. Nori’s body is covered right down to his feet, the robes drawn around his throat. But he must have scars. Great, sweeping scratches, like Dwalin has little piercings from jagged teeth. Or maybe Nori’s covered them with tattoos as Dwalin’s done. Suddenly, Dwalin wants to _see_ , but he doesn’t let himself dwell on the flimsy robe. He keeps his eyes on Nori’s face, and Nori smoothly continues, “I have two brothers, you know. Better, kinder ones, and I _hate_ transforming in front of them. But I can hardly roam the streets, doomed to attack total strangers. But a vampire...”

Interrupting, Dwalin snaps, “What do you want from me?” A werewolf, he’s sure, could’ve easily broken free of the guards. But Nori let himself be dragged here...

Nor takes another step, bringing their bodies right together. A shiver runs through Dwalin’s spine at the press of Nori’s slender chest against his, though he hides it, keeps his face gruff and his body rigid. He wishes he could still feel _warmth_ —he’s sure Nori must be a furnace. Nori looks right up into his eyes, unafraid, unblinking, and purrs, “Drain me.” Dwalin’s body reacts to the simple words, his fangs tingling to _take_. Nori’s gaze flickers to them; Dwalin’s mouth has opened, watering, unable to close. “Every month before the full moon, drink me so hard I can barely stand, so when I transform, I won’t have the energy to do a thing but writhe in your bed until it’s over.” Nori’s voice is barely a whisper by the end, crude but so sensual. It’s full of _promise_.

Dwalin answers somewhere between a growl and a gulp, “I never drink anyone hard.”

“Because they can’t take it?” Nori persists. He brings his hands to Dwalin’s sides, touching Dwalin’s hips, deft fingers only lightly digging in. Dwalin’s arms stay limp at his sides—he doesn’t dare employ them—he’s already _starving._ Nori rubs slightly against him, and for _that_ , blood rushes down Dwalin’s body, stirred for a single purpose. He can feel Nori already hard against him. Grinding their bulges together, Nori groans, “I _can_. I can take anything you give me. And those nights, most of all, will benefit both our conditions. I get peace, and you get all of your desires satiated to your heart’s content.” His lashes have lowered. His cheeks bear a faint blush. He leans in.

And Dwalin, ravenous, can’t resist. He surges forward, slamming his mouth into Nori’s, and kisses Nori just as hard as he wants to, delighted when Nori presses back. A lesser dwarf would’ve been knocked to the floor with Dwalin’s force. But Nori stands strong, and Dwalin crushes them together. 

When he pulls back to give Nori room to breathe, he intends to go in for another, but Nori tugs at his robes instead, pulling open the collar, exposing a long, pale throat that arouses Dwalin beyond belief. Nori arches himself accordingly, wantonly thrust forward. Easy to take. Dwalin crumbles.

He spreads his fangs wide over Nori’s throat, grazes to the perfect spot, and sinks right in. The second he’s pierced the skin, ecstasy floods him, and Nori cries out, louder than others have, but unlike them, there’s no form of ‘no’ or ‘stop.’ Instead, Nori’s hand reaches around Dwalin’s head, threading through his long hair and up to the top of his skull, and pushes him down. Dwalin moans as he thrusts deep inside, stopping finally with his jaw completely stretched. Juicy, rich blood fills his mouth, and Dwalin sucks it in faster than he’s ever dared, suddenly guzzling it down. He’s heard tales that the criminal sacrifices were always sub par, low-born and poor-tasting, but Nori is _delicious._

Nori rocks into him, still humping his crotch and moaning, devoid of any signs of pain. Dwalin’s nearly dizzy with lust. He drinks until Nori shoves hard at his chest, and then he wrenches out, having to wipe his hand quickly over his mouth to keep from spilling it all. A few extra beads rise to the surface of Nori’s broken skin, only to dull as the holes begin to heal. Dwalin doesn’t turn others. He intended never to. Now he almost wonders what it would be like—a hybrid with both their powers. 

Nori looks at him, flushed and panting, almost as hazy-eyed as Dwalin feels. Dwalin’s never been so hard.

Most would faint after that. But Nori dons a sly grin, to Dwalin’s piqued interest, and murmurs, “Don’t get full yet, vampire. There’s still two days before the moon’s whole—wouldn’t want you getting full before then.”

Dwalin just stares at him, _wanting_ him, and slowly mutters, “You didn’t even need to steal anything, did you.” It’s not a question. At least, he doubts the theft was necessary for this particular occasion.

Grin only growing, Nori answers, “It’s difficult to get an audience with Thorin Oakenshield’s illustrious right hand.”

Dwalin growls, “Why, you sneaky little—” but he’s cut off by Nori’s mouth, something Dwalin eagerly gives in to.

This time when they part, it’s only so Dwalin can shove Nori back onto the bed, and Nori obligingly spreads his legs, the both of them thoroughly ready to test their new arrangement.


End file.
